


Silent Beauty

by NekoEatingToast



Category: My OC - Fandom
Genre: Deaf, M/M, Mute - Freeform, Shounen-ai, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoEatingToast/pseuds/NekoEatingToast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johan is deaf, Luka is mute. When the ties of fate string the two boys together over time, their experiences spark an accepting love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own OC story with an original concept, it contains no reference to franchised series or established fandoms.

Soundless Beauty  
Chapter 1: Where Am I?  
Despite all of the commotion I could sense swarming around me, I could still somehow hear him shouting my name, piercing though my deafened ears and his muted lips. My fingertips nudged the cool metal bars of the cart whenever the wheels rolled over a crack in the smooth, tiled flooring. I pried my eyes open yet my vision was blurred, an indescribable pain shot throughout my head while I kept them open. Quickly my eyelids belted downward ridding me of any shattered sight. What was going on? How come everyone is in such a hurry? If only I could see.  
The mattress beneath me and the thin sheets lurched forward as the bed passed over a door entry. My thoughts remained cycling, tripping in constant circles, unable to recollect any hints of this current predicament. Time bypassed as this uneasiness built on top of itself; movement still corrupting the peace around me. Locked at my sides, my arms were immobilized, I am just too weak. Why is it so difficult? I try and try again but my efforts lie in vain, still nothing.  
Eventually the surrounding atmosphere calmed down and I invited darkness to completely envelope me as the serene motion of a hand caressing my hair encouraged me to sleep. I’m so tired. Pure, saturated silence, although nothing I wasn’t used to. Usually I resented it, but right now at this very moment, I find my world void of sound quite pleasing. On the other hand, frustration boiled inside. Such an inexplicable feeling, to know that you are the figure looming beside me, and I am powerless to move. I just wish to see you. I’m alive but not living, what’s the point? Wake me up, please. At the very least I am still able to feel the tender touch from the back of that familiar hand, cold yet appealing, subtle and careful.  
What was your name again? My mind is running entirely blank, crashing with no survivors. Your skin is exceedingly cool against mine, it’s nice. I am grateful, so happy that you chose to be at my side even though I cannot respond to your kind actions. Just what should I call you? I know you so well, at the same time I vaguely remember at all. My conscience desperately searches for information, I can’t even recall how I turned up here. No longer do I retain any patience to concentrate on such pivotal matters; a dream is sweeping me in with its sweet aroma of sleep.  
Your face crinkled with hesitation as you stand at the second story of a house so bleak and dingy. Tears escaped reddened eyes, scrolling down your cheeks leaving behind a bitter trail on your flushed face. There was no one around you, standing seemingly alone. I could feel the emotions darting through your busy mind, firing like shot guns with bullets ricocheting off metal walls. Still able to comprehend your thoughts, somehow still able to hear them.  
That one step determining whether to go down the stairs in the morning. More tears flooded to the floor tarnishing that face as soft and elegant as a beautiful, shy rose petal. It scares me, terrifying. What will happen if you venture your way down there? As it seems, for now my body is fictional and I remain connected to yours. I’m scared. One step down, another scream vanquishes the silence. Is it really safe? In spite of it, your feet carry us down. Had one heard the sound of a piano crashing, it could have been soothing. The stairs sound an alarm a creaky, squealing cry. They know you’re coming, not able to turn back.  
I had once believed a world including sound would be much more colourful and vibrant, but this was just horrid, a dismal world of gray. The distance is haunting me. What lurks not too far is an insidious nightmare, inevitably slithering its way toward you. I remain insecure of this egging hatred, aware that you lack emotion of a certain kind and experience of another. Expecting to get barraged with loud yells that sting these ears and overflow from the brim with ignorance, you plan to look ahead showing no signs that it hurts. You’ll stare into space, one you know is not existent.  
The lavishing liquid gets wiped away, staining this hand with its warmth, a saltiness to match this household’s anguish. The last step. You continue walking, words unattainable to ever be heard resounding from your lips. Once again we now stand as two separate figures as you keep heading in a direction that may be treacherous. Without a way to stop you, I watch. Your delicate body drowns in a thick, black veil, I know your lies but I keep them to myself. What a foolish choice….  
The hand I felt before caressing my face is now clearing away messy droplets streaming in incoherent lines. You’re probably wondering why I am crying, but that I will never tell you. Never again do I want to see you tumble back into that darkness, having to relive such pain inflicted on you every day, it wasn’t fair. You’re safe now. A greedy wish, I know, but I want to let you experience that one emotion that has been stolen from your life, kept in a safe burrowed away.

Love.

Without love, the world is a desolate place. Too dreary for one to live throughout alone. To save you from this harassment and keep you to myself is my voracious desire. Your name still drawing no conclusions. Now I am determined to think harder, digging until I reach a gem that I lost in the dirt. A face so clear to me, it almost seems impossible. Your hand found its way savaging around mine, uncertain but bold at the same time. A pulse could be identified beating from your hand to mine; it was calming in its own way. I could feel a splash of water descend onto my face from above. Stop crying.  
“Luka.”  
My eyes stung but they shot right open. Luka; that is your name. I found myself staring into your face, still tears seemed to flow endlessly in a glistening river of a sensation I could not describe. I tried to speak your name again but I was unable to hear myself, this wasn’t a dream anymore. Averting your gaze to meet my eyes, you lit up with the liveliness of sunflowers seen on bright summer days when the sun appeared almost white shining in a clouded, blue sky. I smiled as you looked at me in shock, disbelieving yourself. A soundless giggle apparent on your face as you turned to hand out an embrace. More tears I felt crashing to my skin, but this time I didn’t care, I was genuinely content to see your smile once more adorning your beauty even greater.  
Struggling as I sat up using my weakened limbs I then swiped your tears away. I smiled to persuade him to smile back and I brushed the hair away revealing the eye that it usually covers. He was much more alluring this way yet he never showed it. Again, Luka looked away but I grabbed his face turning it towards me and pushed up his cheeks forcing a smile on his face. I could feel laughter vibrating from my throat and saw your lips curve up with mine. This is how it should be.  
A beautiful name for a beautiful person, I let go and his hair dropped back to its rightful place, disappointingly, my arms containing no more strength. Luka was a great name in all its justice, yes, perfect. Before I got the chance to further our long-awaited greeting, three nurses arrived, bolting into the room without warning. They ushered you out and I could spot your worried face beyond the crowd of people. I knew nothing bad was about to happen so I offered a last perky grin as the door shut behind you and your concerned face remained behind a small window of glass.  
I hated these scenes, being encircled by a bunch of people, nobody to translate what they were talking about. My mother regularly translated for me. Where is she anyway? Maybe they already contacted her and she was driving over. Hell, I still don’t even know what happened to bring me here in the first place. Arms flailed around me, testing, and all performing different tasks. All I wanted was to leave this place. I hate hospitals, they reek of disinfectants and despair, not an environment I want to be in. Although sooner than I thought possible, they ripped and replaced the IV in my arm and let me be, scudding out of the room in a hurry. Timidly, Luka strode his way back in here, a nervous expression pressed clearly on his face. I smiled jokingly with my thumb up showing no harm was done, reassuring in my own way because I never really knew what was going through that kid’s head. Always so completely placid and stoic that it that concerns me.  
Some would say it is just because he’s so young. I don’t necessarily argue that, fifteen is a time of hardship. You find it a challenge to fit in and you have you do everything in your power to try and ready yourself for a future that is tumbling at you unforgivingly fast. It’s only normal to be confused or depressed, not entirely sure of what to do. Many even fall and parish at the strike of this newfound responsibility and turn to a negative way of coping, unable to handle it. That does not mean they should give up. Then as common tale goes, in time they get back on their feet and quit resorting to a last option in their crisis. To say the least, Luka’s different from them, not average for lack of a better word. He’s been this way his whole life, mousy with a million hidden emotions.  
If things get worse I won’t know what to do, I get choked up when I see him already. Besides, I don’t know how much one can expect from a boy who’s only a year older. I’m just ordinary, maybe even less than that. Sixteen and deafened. Never mind that, I can’t even think of why I’m here. So if he needs me now, there’s nothing I can do except a small contribution of words written on paper.  
What I remember from meeting Luka is when my mom told me of a family moving into our community a few blocks down from us and that they had a son about my age. Soon after, I learned that he was mute, and with me being deaf we understood each other better than anyone else. Eventually to communicate because he couldn’t sign we bought notebooks, wrote in them, and held them up to each other whenever we wanted to say something. As soon as we advanced from elementary school, I began to notice that Luka just wasn’t the same. I asked him why because I got curious and he wrote two words solely on the last page of his book which read: “Don’t worry”. I stayed quiet about it for a while, unwilling to bring the subject back to the surface, I felt uneasy about it and as a friend terribly distraught.  
Two years passed, he was thirteen, me being fourteen. According to my mother someone was at our door ringing persistently. As she was preparing dinner she turned to me and signed that I go answer it because her hands were full. Without the slightest hesitation I threw the door open with a smile because our house rarely got visitors and my mother didn’t usually let me get the door. That smile disintegrated relentlessly to the floor as I saw the sight before me. Luka stood in front of me clinging to the wall for support. Visually I could see that he was badly scarred and bruised. With his free hand he clenched it around his the remains of his right eye, blood gleaming in red pools out from between the spaces of his fingers.  
No context was needed to explain this, guilt was reaping me, and I knew what’d happened before he wrote a word. I grabbed his arm not waiting for an explanation and threw it over my shoulder as I shouted to my mother still in the kitchen. I didn’t really know how urgent I sounded or if I did at all, but she got the message. Sprinting from around the corner she instantly froze at the devastation. Taking Luka from me who now lost strength and hung limply, she madly ran to the other side of the house where Grandma lives.  
Unable to do anything, I observed from the empty side of the table and watched as my mother and grandma worked with precision to treat Luka’s injuries. “How could I let this happen?” That was all I could think. I could have prevented this outcome, somehow. It ate at me, the fiber of my very being, not sure what to do, what to say. Meanwhile, the swabbing stopped and the stitches were finished sewing. Bandages covered Luka’s frail body a silky, smooth material the colour of an angel’s gown placed over something appalling. It was like a nightmare wrapped in a dream not letting you see how horrific it truly was. Grandma told me to leave the room as the next operation was in session. Still, I waited on the other side of the door patiently, anxiously waiting for it to be opened once again. Soon I began growing drowsy from my tears.  
I fell back as the door behind me swung inwards, almost asleep but not yet totally grasped by the serenity and escape sleep offered. My mother clasped my hand and helped me up then led me back into the room. I saw Luka still lying on the table pale and defeated, somewhat like a doll, with a new eye patch to finish it off and to be kept on until it finished healing. I turned to my mom and cried not knowing what else to do. I felt completely ridiculous, but damn it was nice to finally let it out.  
Things remained virtually the same, almost back to normal after that incident. Luka moved in with his older brother who was twenty-two at the time into his apartment. The only problem was that his brother had recently gotten engaged and his wife-to-be was living there as well.  
The day for his bandages and eye patch to be removed had arrived and he was reluctant. He didn’t want his eye to go uncovered, afraid for people to see it and judge or ask questions. Ultimately he ended up taking it off after being victim to my persuasions and complaints. Sooner or later he figured out a way to cover it without the aid of a gauze when his hair grew long enough for his bangs to conceal it.  
I vowed to myself that I’d protect him, prevent these occurrences from happening on that day forth. I’d need to read into situations carefully and analyze the situation to the details. Luka wouldn’t find out though. Still he is not as cheerful as he used to be, but I can’t say I am either. It’s almost nice now. Every time I see that glass eye embedded on his face, I smile a bit from its beauty and remind myself of the companionship we still have, it makes me happy in a strange way. I still have yet to thank my grandmother for that.


	2. How Could This Happen?

Silent Beauty  
Chapter 2: How Could This Happen?  
With him, a backpack swung loosely around one shoulder held by a secure grip in both hands. After offering a tentative smile, Luka wrapped the backpack around his body so it hung in front of him and searched around with his hands. Seemingly almost a bit too giddy what he pulled out were two slim objects. At first I couldn’t tell what he was so happy about, until I saw it. Two brand-new notebooks were presented before me, one orange the other green. With a blush up to his ears which stained his skin a vibrant hue of pink, Luka walked over with one in each hand and held out both notebooks to me. Since he was so kind as to let me pick the colour, without hesitation I grabbed the orange book from his gentle grasp feeling as though only the air was holding them up. I couldn’t help but think that he was a total dork, I mean after all the years we’ve known each other, I’m quite confident that he knows orange has always been my favourite colour.  
Impatiently I fished around for a pen, my arm tugging the IV as I made a mess of the stand beside me. A subtle tap was felt on my shoulder as I noticed you holding out a bleu marker for me to use. Sheepishly I accepted it and hurriedly flipped open the front cover to reveal a crisp, unmarked page. Uncapping the pen I began rapidly scribbling what I wanted to say. For a brief moment I looked up to be met with your humored expression, slightly giggling at my performance. Glancing back down at my sloppy message, I quickly added in a smiley face and turned it around for Luka to read. Such a simple, innocent note, “I missed you.”  
Luka’s eye grew big and watery but I knew it wasn’t of sadness. In the neat elegant writing he always had Luka responded, “Me too, Johan.” There was no way I couldn’t feel happy about a response like that. I gestured a small laugh and we continued our conversation, the first one in I don’t know how long. Although it felt as though something was different from before.  
҈  
After a while of trading off notes, Luka took a breath and exclaimed that he had to be going to visit an old friend. I made the biggest pouty face I could muster, to be honest feeling a little jealous. Still I had so many questions unanswered. When Luka turned around to leave I reached out to tap his hand before he left. Just curios on a simple factor, quickly written out I’d asked, “Where are my parents?” When your eyes finished scanning the note it looked as if your heart had shattered into a million pieces. “Aren’t they coming to visit me?” I turned my head slightly to the side to show my confusion.  
You looked anywhere but at me, as if I were some horrifying creature. Concentrated on the floor, Luka then slowly reached around for his book. Without any hurry, your left hand traced the letters almost painfully. “You’ve been in a coma for almost three months. Johan, your parents are dead.”  
My eyes grew in shock. My head began to throb under the thin bandages wrapped around it. Why had the pain only started now? Unconsciously, tears rolled mercilessly from my honey-coloured eyes. Luka was never one to lie, my guard had crumbled. Thin arms covered with that familiar green jacket had wrapped around me in an attempt of comfort. I could tell that it was news you had not wanted to break this soon. As much as I wanted to stay strong, for now I knew you’d understand. Still I had no further information, I needed to find out.  
However, the embrace did not last forever. Quivering hands searched for my notebook and I began writing blindly as my tears blurred my sight. My body felt stiff and unwilling but I forced my hand to write “What happened?” I turned the page around. Blotchy bleu lines deformed from droplets of water hitting the ink.  
“There was an accident.” Was all the first note read. “Remember how your father’s business was going under?” without an answer he continued, figuring I knew well enough. “He told you that there was to be a vacation to brighten the mood even though money was beginning to form a problem.”  
“Why would he do that?” Luka looked up to read my note as he was trying to piece together my memory. It seemed like you were telling a story, it almost felt as though this wasn’t real. Of course I didn’t want to believe it.  
With another deep breath you continued, “He lied. On the way there he attempted a family suicide without warning.” I could now see evidence of you crying on my behalf. Your movements were restricted, afraid of breaking me further. I nodded as we stared in silence to encourage you to tell more. “Your father drove the car off the side of the road and the front rammed directly into a tree. As you could guess, the front was completely totaled and both the driver and passenger seats had been crumpled up.”  
“Why am I alive?” Shouldn’t I have died too? Why did this have to happen? “I thought things were going to be okay…”  
“You’re the only one that survived. It was a miracle really.” Luka used his sleeve to wipe his face. “You don’t know how happy I was to hear that you weren’t gone.”  
He was looking up at me for a response. A smile on his lips just slightly, but it was full of sorrow. I could feel my throat closing up, a sensation of choking ensured. Luka didn’t leave, he’d stayed with me until I stopped crying, until I went to sleep.

҈  
I woke up to an empty room. Everything was so white and the powerful, lingering scent of antiseptic alcohol left me nauseous. My head was pounding and the pain refused to go away. Reality was still crushing its weight down on me, pushing me under. You can’t bring back the dead; this is how my life will be from now on. Yet knowing that won’t stop me from agonizing over it.  
In my trance, the obnoxious crowd comes back to check up my status. Frankly, I feel fine besides my head hurting, but that’s just from the information getting to me. After the assistants were done, the doctor stayed in the room to give me a rundown on my condition. Luckily he knew how to sign but didn’t look too experienced with it. “Johan, you have recovered at an alarmingly fast rate that we never expected. In about a week you’ll be able to be transferred. We just want to run a few final tests to make sure you’re stable.”  
I nodded in understanding and signed a quick “Thanks, I must be lucky.” before he left, glad that I could leave this place soon. The doctor turned around at the door looking dolefully into my miserable expression that stuck like glue. Casting his gaze to the pallid tiles on the ground beneath us, he signed before taking off.  
“My condolences.” The door shut behind him gentler than previous times and his figure moved away gradually from the blurry window.  
With a blank stare, I looked ahead of me, hands folded in my lap. Now what? I have a week to wait and when I get back there will be nothing left except my grandmother and Luka. All of my memories still haven’t surfaced yet, so the accident still seems unreal. I can’t remember but I don’t know if I want to either. In front of Luka, I don’t want to cry anymore. I just want things to go back to the way they were. Is that so much to ask?  
I know that it’s no use dwelling on it for too much longer; I have to let it go. But for now, I just want to be alone. Turning to my side, I pull the thin sheets around me and try to ignore how my head is still throbbing. For now, I should get some sleep.


End file.
